The Stolen Gemstone

When the inspection was finished, the supply wagon began to move again.

Vanessa, who had been clinging to the ceiling with arms and legs spread wide, dropped down silently.

Peeking out through the canvas covering, she waited until the wagon stopped, then slipped out of the cargo bed.

The back door of the estate stood wide open.

As Vanessa stepped through it and hid behind a pillar, chefs wearing tall white hats rushed out.

“Finally arrived! You brought His Highness’s favorite red pears, right?”

“Yes! Just as ordered, perfectly ripened and soft!”

“Bring one out immediately. I need to taste it to check the quality.”

While the chefs thoroughly inspected the ingredients, Vanessa slipped past them and hurried up a staircase.

As expected of a prince’s residence, vigilant guards were everywhere.

But the brutal training she endured as recently as this morning did not betray her.

Sensing another presence, Vanessa ducked behind a sculpture on display.

At that moment, maids carrying trays walked by.

“His Highness skipped another meal.”

“He doesn’t seem to sleep properly either. Do all artists push their bodies like that?”

“Not all, but the artists I know do.”

“I’m worried he’ll collapse. Looks like he plans to stay up all night in the studio again.”

The maids descended the stairs, murmuring with concern for the prince.

Thanks to them, Vanessa learned he was working upstairs.

She headed up quickly.

She planned to search every room on the upper floor until she found his studio—but then she stopped.

Only one door?

Based on the structure she saw from outside, there should be several rooms, not just one.

It seemed the walls and doors had been removed and the rooms combined into one massive studio.

Vanessa carefully turned the doorknob.

Fortunately, because Fren disliked noise while working, Vanessa had mastered the art of opening doors silently.

The moment there was enough space for her body, she slipped inside.

“This isn’t it!”

The sharp, frustrated voice of the studio owner reverberated through the space the moment Vanessa closed the door.

Artists snapping at their work was nothing unusual, so Vanessa ignored it and looked around.

Artua had arranged partitions throughout the studio and displayed his works like a real exhibition.

It showed how much he cared about audience perspective, though Vanessa, who cared only for Fren’s work, paid little attention.

All the figures in the paintings had their faces painted entirely black, which was certainly strange, but Vanessa had not the slightest interest.

“This isn’t it!”

Artua was working at the very back.

Vanessa watched from behind a partition.

Rumor said he was extremely sensitive to disturbances, a swordsman with keen senses—but now he looked nothing short of unhinged.

His voice trembled between sobs.

Suddenly he collapsed to the floor, clutching his brush.

“This isn’t it! It’s not right!”

Even the back of his head was elegant, yet his trembling shoulders looked painfully fragile.

Anyone would want to comfort him.

Vanessa stood and reached out her hand silently.

She didn’t know why she did it.

Artua continued shouting, unaware.

“The god I imagine…! The most ideal being I can conceive…!”

His tortured cry filled the studio.

“It can’t be his work!!”

The face of the goddess holding wheat—the symbol of abundance—looked shockingly similar to Vanessa’s.

Artua screamed, then violently painted over the goddess’s face, covering it in black.

Vanessa stretched her hand further.

Before she could touch him, a purple gemstone rolled from the pile of jewels beside him like an acorn.

Artua snapped his brush in half and turned his head sharply.

“Who’s there?”

Vanessa slipped behind the partition just before his eyes found her.

She held her breath.

“Someone is there, aren’t they?”

Holding his brush like a sword, Artua radiated killing intent.

Vanessa slid her hand inside her clothing, gripping the glass vial she carried for emergencies.

Artua stepped toward the partition, approaching one silent step at a time.

Just when he was almost nose-to-nose with Vanessa’s hiding place—

Clink—

His foot tapped the purple gem that had rolled earlier.

His attention snapped downward.

Staring at it blankly, he suddenly roared:

“The exhibition is next month! Invitations already sent—what am I supposed to do?!”

He spun around and began ripping his canvases and smashing frames in a frenzy.

In the chaos, Vanessa snatched the gem like a hawk and slipped out as silently as she came.

Running into the forest, she reached her waiting horse.

“Good work.”

She stroked its mane and mounted.

The horse galloped like wind toward Fren’s estate.

After returning it to the stable, Vanessa sprinted up the stairs and fell to her knees in front of Fren’s door.

“Lord Fren! I’m back!”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting. Come in.”

Barely able to breathe, Vanessa still straightened her clothes before entering.

Fren sat where she last left him—by the window.

Vanessa asked desperately:

“H-how much time is left?!”

Fren answered brightly:

“Five minutes.”

“R-really?!”

“See for yourself.”

He held a pocket watch to her eyes.

It was true—five minutes remained.

Vanessa let out a long breath, then revealed the gem from her pocket.

“As ordered, I retrieved it without being seen.”

Fren stared at the blue gemstone on her palm in pure rapture.

Then he leaped up, grabbing one of Vanessa’s hands and her waist with the other.

“Incredible! Absolutely incredible!”

“L-Lord Fren?!”

Fren spun her around like they were in a ballroom.

Vanessa followed his steps despite the dizzying speed, looking up at him.

He was smiling like the sun—so dazzling that she had no choice but to smile too.

As their dance reached its peak, Vanessa bent deeply backward, entrusting everything to Fren.

He supported her fully, holding the weight of his most precious masterpiece alone.

Their breathing was ragged; their flushed faces were inches apart.

Then they both sank to the floor.

Fren cupped her face and kissed her wildly, whispering sweet words between breaths.

“My lovely Vanessa. My beautiful Vanessa. My talented Vanessa.”

“Lord Fren…!”

The overwhelming affection made her fall backward.

But Fren’s kisses didn’t stop.

Trying to calm her beloved master, Vanessa shook her head hard.

“No… I’m not amazing. You are, Lord Fren.”

Fren froze.

Vanessa continued quickly:

“This is all thanks to you. You created me.”

For a long moment, Fren looked down at her in silence.

Then nodded slowly.

“…Yes. You’re right.”

Vanessa felt relieved that he seemed calm again.

Fren smiled gently now—not wildly.

“I made you.”

He stroked her cheek and warned softly:

“Never forget that.”

“I never will. Now please stand, my lord. Let me fix your clothes and hair.”

“Thank you.”

Under her skilled hands, Fren regained his usual immaculate appearance.

Opening the door, he said:

“Shall we go check if the gemstone is usable before dinner?”

“Yes!”

Vanessa nodded eagerly.

They went down to the first underground studio.

Unlike Artua’s, Fren’s studio was cluttered with scattered works—yet anyone of status knew every piece was a masterpiece worth fighting for.

Vanessa felt her admiration swell.

Fren placed the gemstone into a machine he recently purchased from the Mage Tower.

The magical circuits carved into it glowed.

―Vrrrrrrr!

After some noise, a bell chimed and the machine stopped.

Fren retrieved a glass bottle filled with deep blue liquid.

Vanessa gasped without realizing it.

It was a stunning, vivid blue.

Inspecting it closely, Fren murmured:

“So this is pigment made from Thalia.”

“I should’ve brought the other colors too. They had purple—your favorite.”

“No, this is enough.”

Fren sat, poured the paint onto a palette, added some water, dipped his brush, and tested it on canvas.

Vanessa swallowed nervously.

Fren stroked his chin.

“This is a little different from what I imagined.”

“…You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that. But it’s not good enough to use for the next piece.”

“Is that so…”

Vanessa drooped.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Why would you apologize?”

He leaned against her shoulder.

“Thanks to you, I learned what I needed.”

“But still—”

“It really isn’t your fault. If anything, it’s mine for expecting too much from Thalia pigment.”

“That’s not your fault…! Nothing is ever your fault!”

“No, it is. But anyway…”

Fren lifted his gaze to hers.

“Thanks to this, I’m truly happy today.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened, stunned.

Then she smiled—so beautifully it hurt to look at her—and nodded.

“Me too.”